


Dragon

by okapi



Series: HC SVNT DRACONES [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Birthday, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dragon Sherlock, F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Genderswap, Interspecies Sex, Magical Lingerie, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock’s birthday gift from John turns her into a dragon. </p><p>Established Fem!Johnlock transforming into human!John/dragon!Sherlock. Inspired by the products of <a href="http://bad-dragon.com/products">Bad Dragon</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



> Sherlock's birthday gift inspired by [White Nights by Passionata](http://dentellesetfroufrous.tumblr.com/post/96553556963/white-nights-by-passionata), her cock by [Ridley the Xenogon](http://bad-dragon.com/products/ridley), and her tongue by [Dragon's Tongue](http://bad-dragon.com/products/tongue).
> 
> I first learned of the Bad Dragon products of the Tumblr of the lovely [Random_Nexus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus) and have been inspired to write a series where each of my main characters turns into a cock-wielding dragon on her birthday. Each story can be read alone, but there will be considerable overlap and continuity.

John stood at parade-rest at the window and watched the late morning traffic. At footsteps on the stairs, she scooped up the flat grey box.

“John...”

“For you,” she blurted and thrust the box at Sherlock’s abdomen.

“Should I...?”

“If you like.”

Sherlock opened the box. “Beautiful. Thank you.” John took the lid, and Sherlock lifted the brassiere. It was indigo blue with sparkling embroidered flowers. “John...”

“Set, of course, matching knickers. Hand-stitched. Italian. Think the shop owner remembers us from [last time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1120445). She gave me a funny look. Umm, I made reservations for us at Angelo’s tonight. Of course, we don’t need reservations at Angelo’s, but she said she’d make something special. Happy Birthday, my Love.” John leaned up and planted an almost-invisible kiss on Sherlock’s cheek.

“Umm...John.” Sherlock dropped the bra in the box and held up her mobile. “Case.”

“ _Oh_. Right.” John’s shoulders rolled back. Her chin jutted out. “Let’s go.”

“I could...” Sherlock nodded to the box.

“No, no. The game is on, right? No sense wasting time.”

“Later,” said Sherlock, setting the box on the table. “Thank you, again.”

“Sure. Later.” John tossed the lid on the box and followed her down the stairs.

* * *

Twelve hours later, they were in a taxi en route to Baker Street.

“We should get married. Tomorrow.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

John closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and index finger. She took a deep breath and winced.

“They were actually going to deny me access to you _when you were injured!_ ”

“Sherlock, it wasn’t Barts. They didn’t know us. They didn’t know _you_. They were following protocol.”

“That question, John, I heard it. ‘Do you feel safe in your own home?’ _Idiots_.”

“They aren’t idiots. I came into their A & E with possible fractured ribs and a definite sprained wrist. Any woman in this country should be asked that question, alone. They’re trained to see through ‘I ran into a door,’ ‘I’m just clumsy.’ And you didn’t help matters by huffing and puffing out there like bloody Smaug, threatening to burn down the place. And I couldn’t bloody well tell them the truth, could I? ‘I was set upon by gold smugglers, fucking antique doubloon thieves.’ ‘Really? Where are these rascally pirates?’ ‘Oh, they got away, with the gold!’ ‘Right, here you go, we’re keeping you here indefinitely for psychiatric observation. Take the bunk next to Captain Hook!’ _Christ!_ ”

John leaned back against the taxi seat and winced.

“If they’re unaware or disbelieving of the widespread trafficking in illegal antiquities _and_ the skyrocketing value of gold, well, there’s really nothing for them.”

Dark London streets passed in silence.

“You took the lorazepam.”

“Took the oxy, too.”

“You’re in pain; of course, you took the oxy.”

John groaned and blinked.

“Why?”

John closed her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t want to worry about anything tonight.”

“Anything meaning _me_.”

“Me, you, us, the price of gold...”

“Because of my birthday. Because...”

John shrugged. “No. I just wanted to... _Christ_... I don’t even know. It’s over now.”

“Actually, it’s not. My birthday doesn’t start for another...sixty-three minutes.”

“I’ve seen your passport, Sherlock.”

“All fruit of a poisoned birth certificate, so to speak. For reasons I shan’t articulate, my birth wasn’t registered accurately. In truth, I emerged into the world one day later than the official record—you can ask Mycroft. She was in the vicinity, eating something”

Sherlock leaned towards John and dropped her voice to a soft rumble, “So what’s say we start the day over and celebrate properly?”

With her left hand, John gestured to her right side. “I’m a little incapacitated for much enthusiastic celebrating,” she lamented.

The edge of Sherlock’s mouth curled upwards. “Genius needs an audience, John.”

John raised one eyebrow; a slow smile crept across her face. “Well, when you put it like _that_...”

* * *

“No, don’t bother. I can manage. Thanks, just the same,” muttered John as she fumbled with her jeans. It was the second time that she said it, this time louder than the previous. She heard Sherlock moving about the flat, but when she had stated her intention to take a shower, Sherlock’s only response was, “Perfect.”

After a clumsy, curse-ridden affair, John emerged in Harry’s Christmas gift pyjamas. “Thank God the oxy’s kicked in.” Steam curled out into the hall.

“Even better,” said Sherlock, still wearing the Belstaff. “Your carriage awaits.” She motioned to the open window at the end of the hall.

John walked to the window. She stared at the hanging square of wood. Then, she looked up, following the rope to a pulley that extended from the roof.

“You want me to sit on that!” John pulled on the rope with her left hand.

“How am I going to get you to the roof if you can’t manage the ladder? Fly?”

“Why do I need to be on the roof?”

Sherlock huffed impatiently. “Up you go.”

John’s constant stream of profanity died when she saw the roof-top scene: cushions, pillows, and blankets atop an inflatable mattress, surrounded by vines of twinkling fairy lights.

“Oh, _Sherlock_...It’s a _nest_.”

Sherlock beamed. “I do love to be dramatic.”

John eased herself down into the centre of the mattress, grimacing and grunting until she found a comfortable position. “For your birthday...,” she said, leaning on her left side.

“Which starts in...one minute,” said Sherlock, glancing at her mobile and then dropping it in her coat pocket. “Shall I enter my lair?”

“Your mate is waiting, my fearsome one...”

Sherlock let the Belstaff drop with a _clink-clunk_. “How’s _this_ for drama?”

John gasped.

“Oh, _Sherlock_. You’re more gorgeous than I imagined.”

Sherlock did a pirouette. “I do like my birthday gift, John.” She looked over her shoulder, hands on hips, and wriggled her arse.

“I like it more. _Come. Here_.”

Sherlock crawled to her. John shifted her weight gently and reached up to cup Sherlock’s head and pulled her close. “Happy Birthday, my Love.”

Warm lips touched warm lips. The kiss grew warmer and warmer until it seemed to actually burn. John rolled away from Sherlock, reaching back instinctively with her right hand to steady herself. She yelped in pain, and her eyes fluttered open.

John’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped.

“Sherlock, as my emergency contact, please include lorazepam among my list of ‘Known Drug Allergies.’ I will never, ever take it again.” John cradled her throbbing wrist.

**_John!_ **

John giggled. “You look like a dragon. A blue, sparkly dragon. _Christ!_ Modern pharmaceuticals.”

**_John! You are not hallucinating. I see it, too!_ **

A burst of fire emanated from the large lizard’s mouth. The foul odour of singed bedding filled the air. Despite the resulting pain, John scrambled to the far edge of the mattress.

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock twisted her long neck behind her. Her monstrous body was covered with indigo blue scales that glittered like gems in the darkness. She swung her wide, muscular tail back and forth, the tip of which reached the edge of the roof. She lifted each front leg slowly, examining the sharp black claws at the end of each foot.

Sherlock unfurled two bat-like wings and flapped them.

**_Very interesting._ **

“What _are_ you?”

Sherlock looked at John. Two almond-shaped eyes contained thin black pupils surrounded by familiar grey irises. The way she rolled her eyes and huffed was also familiar. But now, the huffing came with actual puffing, that is, smoke billowing from her nostrils.

John coughed.

 ** _Obvious. I am still me, John._** **_Me, but a dragon._**

“Dragons don’t exist, Sherlock.”

 ** _Then what do you call this?_** With a few awkward hops, Sherlock launched herself into the night sky.

John crumpled down into the nest and watched Sherlock, watched her flap and soar, turn and twist. She rose until she disappeared from John’s sight. Moments later, she reappeared from the clouds, hurtling with furious speed toward John, and then, at the last second, righting herself to skim the rooftops.

When Sherlock returned to the roof, she furled her wings and lowered her head to John’s level.

**_Extraordinary, John. My senses are much keener: sight, hearing, smell. An entirely new tunnel has opened in my Mind Cave—_ **

“I thought it was a palace.”

**_—so much new data. I’ve only just taken in the basics. And, well, the view from up there, it’s spectacular. Come with me. Up there. You must._ **

Sherlock whipped her tail until the tip touched John’s face.

“How Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded to the contraption that she’d used to hoist John to the roof. **_Use the rope to fashion a bridle and tie yourself to my back._**

“Oh, of course. I’ll just whip up an ol’ dragon bridle. Like you do. Even if I could manage something with a bum wrist and bruised side, I’ll fall off at the first leap. And I can’t exactly call for help, can I? That bunk with Captain Hook is still available, I bet.”

Sherlock lay down and closed her eyes. John didn’t say a word because even with horns and scales and wings, Sherlock the Dragon in her Mind Cave looked exactly like Sherlock the Human in her Mind Palace. Sherlock’s eyes opened.

**_Give me your wrist. No, the sprained one, obviously, John. Do keep up._ **

Sherlock curled her blue-white tongue around John’s wrist. When the cauterizing pain disappeared, John gingerly rotated it and said, “Holy Mary! How did you do that? How did you even _know_ to do that? You healed it, Sherlock. There’s no pain at all. Complete range of motion. Extraordinary.”

**_Dragon saliva has healing properties for their mates. And perhaps others. But who cares about them? The ribs, John._ **

John held up her pyjama top. A swipe of Sherlock’s tongue sent the same searing pain through her, with the same miraculous results.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” said John, invigorated. With Sherlock’s constant instruction in her head, she fashioned a bridle from the rope.

“It’s going to be cold up there.”

**_Take the Belstaff._ **

John slipped on the coat. She moved Sherlock’s phone to the inside pocket and zipped it closed. Her fingers touched something heavy in the other outer pocket.

“Sherlock, what is this?” John opened her hand to reveal three gold coins. “Doubloons! You took these from the thieves!”

**_They didn’t get away with all the gold, John._ **

A wide smile broke across Sherlock’s face. Her open lips revealed razor sharp teeth and gums that dripped with saliva.

“These belong in a museum!”

**_No! Early birthday gift for me!_ **

Sherlock’s eyes widened. She sniffed John’s hand.

**_Smells delicious. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. My gold..._ **

“There were only a dozen to begin with, Sherlock. You don’t think the thieves are going to realize that a quarter of their loot is gone and come looking for us.”

**_Let them come. They hurt my mate. If they trespass upon my lair and try to steal my hoard, well, they get what’s coming to them. They weren’t criminal masterminds, John. Were it not for the distraction of your injuries at a critical juncture, they would have been easily captured._ **

“Let’s hope they’re smarter than you think and stay home. Alright. Here I come.”

John tied herself to Sherlock’s back, between her wings. With the last knot fastened to her satisfaction, she held on tightly to the makeshift reins.

“Easy does it.”

Hop, hop, and they were off. After the initial terror dissipated, John peeked over Sherlock’s shoulder. She marvelled at the twinkling lights of the city below and the crescent moon and stars overhead. A silly grin was plastered to her face as Sherlock took her on a sightseeing tour of the city, past the Eye and the Tower Bridge, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the Tower of London and Trafalgar Square.

“You were right, Sherlock. The view is spectacular.”

Sherlock veered back toward Baker Street.

**_No, John, you were right._ **

“About what?”

**_Those thieves. I can see them, six blocks from the flat. Idiots._ **

“Then let’s go somewhere else. They won’t find anyone or the gold at home. Mr. Hudson’s gone to his sister’s for the week.”

**_I have a better plan._ **

“Sherlock...”

**_Here’s what I want you to do..._ **

* * *

A few minutes later, John was curled on the sofa, her face buried in the cushions. The three gold pieces were laid out on the small table.

“Hullo, poppet,” growled the intruder. “Heh, heh, this is going to be easy.”

“That’s what you think,” warned John as she turned and cocooned herself in a fire-proof blanket.

In an instant, the flat was flooded with the sound of breaking glass and Sherlock’s shrieks. John heard the roar of flames, muffled screams, and reptilian feet crunching around the flat. She peered out from under the blanket. Through the smoke, she could see three piles of ash. Sherlock barely fit between ceiling and walls. Part of her tail drooped out the window.

**_I can smell them, John. Look._ **

Sherlock sifted through the ash with one foot. Gold shone amidst the black.

“The rest of the doubloons.”

**_Take them._ **

“Sherlock...They do not belong to us.”

Sherlock turned her head and squinted at John.

**_Take. Them._ **

“When or if you return to normal size and shape, we’re going to have a talk about this.” John recovered nine coins from the piles of ash and dropped them into the pocket of the Belstaff.

“Now what?” asked John. “You’ve destroyed the flat. Burnt three bad guys to a crisp. Probably caused a million UFO sightings to be reported around the metropolitan area. And now we’ll just kip on the roof? Until Lestrade comes to haul us both away, of course. Until someone comes. Your sister’s minions. Animal Control. Ministry of Magic.”

**_No. We’re leaving._ **

“What about the flat?”

**_Mycroft will think of something. Probably gas leak._ **

“I guess there’s no sense arguing with you when you can eat me,” grumbled John as she climbed onto Sherlock’s back and secured herself anew.

Turning around was not an option. Sherlock backed out of the flat and slid down to Baker Street before taking off. Once they were in the air, John asked,

“Where we’re going?”

**_Wales._ **

“Oh, of course. Wales. Right. Sure. Umm...”

**_We have property there._ **

“You and Mycroft?”

**_Yes. It’s a cottage home in a very remote part of the countryside. We spent time there as children, Mycroft much more than myself. Only an old caretaker and his wife live there now. The residence itself is modest, but there is quite a bit of land surrounding it._ **

“So nobody to report a dragon menacing the neighbourhood?”

 ** _That, and well...I have my hoard, or at least the beginnings of one. I have my mate. My proper lair is..._** Sherlock looked back toward Baker Street ** _...not entirely suitable. I need space, and where we are going..._**

“Yes?” John gripped the reins tighter as Sherlock increased her speed.

**_...there’s a cave._ **

* * *

“Well, that’s the best I can do,” said John, piling up the wood. “Give us a snort and we’ll have a crackling fire in no time.”

**_I am not cold._ **

“Well, I am. My feet are freezing.” Sherlock blew gently on the wood, and it burst into flame. She pushed a flat stone to edge of the fire with her snout. John sat and stretched her feet to the flames, circling her ankles. She hummed in relief.

Sherlock curled around behind her. John scooted back and Sherlock inched forward until John could lean back against Sherlock’s side. “You are quite warm. Surprising, actually.” John rubbed Sherlock’s skin.

**_Fire-drake, John. Not lizard._ **

John rested her cheek against Sherlock and traced a scalloped edge of one scale with her finger. She pressed her lips to centre of it. “Can you feel it? Through all that?” John knocked Sherlock’s hide.

Sherlock twisted her neck to face John. Her eyes closed slowly. **_Yes._**

“Hmm. Yeah, now that you mention it, I couldn’t help noticing, you’re an actual _drake_.” John motioned the appendage between Sherlock’s back legs.

**_Yes. That._ **

John grinned. “What’s it like? Having a cock?”

**_Pure distraction. Were I to have one as a human, I don’t think I could have accomplished half of what I have in my life._ **

“So it _is_ like having a second brain, huh? Well, mate or no mate, just for the record, you aren’t putting _that_ in me.”

**_John, your vagina measures 6.27 cm in length, with an introital diameter of 2.62 cm. Even allowing for an additional centimetre of elasticity for a state of extreme arousal..._ **

John stood up on the rock, hands on hips, and scowled at Sherlock.

“When did you measure my cunt?! I swear to God, Sherlock, if you are experimenting on me without my knowledge...”

**_Are my powers of observation so feeble, John? I don’t need to measure something like a tailor to know its exact dimensions, especially if it is an important part of an important part of my life. I have amassed a considerable amount of data on you. That’s how I know for a fact, even half-sheathed, in my current state, penetration would more than likely produce discomfort for you, and your discomfort is intolerable!_ **

The last word was punctuated with a tongue of fire and puff of smoke above their heads. Sherlock curled away from John and the fire in a dragon-sized sulk.

John stood frozen. Then she leapt onto Sherlock’s back from the stone and crawled up her neck toward her head. She rested her cheek against the skin between Sherlock’s horns, just behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock huffed and puffed. John coughed.

“Why don’t you come back by the fire?” She rubbed Sherlock’s horns and the expanse of skin that she could reach behind them.

**_No._ **

Soft clouds of smoke rolled from Sherlock’s nostrils as John’s hands moved further back along her neck. The scales of her neck turned a violet colour.

John whispered, “You can tell me how to lay out your gold. I might not get it right.”

Sherlock’s head whipped around, nearly catapulting John from her place on Sherlock’s neck.

**_You definitely won’t get it right._ **

* * *

A short eternity later, the twelve coins lay exact distance apart in a circle around the fire.

 ** _John, there’s quite a bit to review and catalogue_**...

“Mind if I rest?”

**_Not at all._ **

Sherlock rolled further onto her side. The dark blue scales faded to an almost white underbelly. John stood up and removed the Belstaff. She folded it into a square.

“Between the fire and your heat, I don’t think I’ll need this. You’ll watch the fire?”

Sherlock rolled her eyes. **_Obviously._**  

She pushed John’s stone seat aside with her tail and patted the earth by her side.

John smiled and spooned next to Sherlock’s belly, resting her head on the folded coat.

“Good night, my Love. Happy Birthday.” She pressed her lips to Sherlock’s belly and watched with delight as a lilac lip-print bloomed and faded on the pale canvas of skin.

**_Good night, John._ **

* * *

John was hot. Very hot. She felt something soft and wet touch her temple. She reached her hand up to brush Sherlock’s tongue as it retreated.

“Sherlock?”

John wiped her brow. She realized that she was caught between the roaring fire and the heavily insulated wall that was Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock rose and moved further away from the fire. John followed her. The damp cool of the cave crept around them.

**_Better?_ **

“Yeah, thanks. I was roasting a bit there.”

John felt another swipe of Sherlock’s tongue, this time at the back of her neck.

John stood up, wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s snout, and tugged it playfully back and forth. “That _tickles!_ ”

 ** _I can_** **_smell and taste an organic compound, like an oil, in your bodily fluids, on your skin. It’s unique._**

**_It’s...delicious._ **

**_It...calls to me._ **

Sherlock turned her head away and rested it on her two front legs.

**_My apologies for disturbing your sleep._ **

“Did you learn in your Mind Cave that your skin turns a fetching purple when you’re aroused?”

**_It does not._ **

“And I have a theory. The lighter the colour of scale, the more sensitive you are. Like right _here_.” John licked the juncture between Sherlock’s front leg and body. A deep plum stain erupted in the wake of John’s tongue. Then the scales faded back to white.

“Turn over, Sherlock.” John stepped away. Sherlock carefully folded her wings and rolled over on her back.

John climbed atop Sherlock. She moved steadily, systematically, from craggy chin downwards, licking and kissing and rubbing the flesh, which was a uniform glittering amethyst colour by the time she reached Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock arched her head and blew steady streams of fire and smoke towards the entrance of the cave. Her tail twitched violently. Her body undulated. John rode the waves like a tiny sea vessel amidst a raging storm. Sherlock’s cock was thick and hard, a throbbing royal purple shaft.

“May I...?”

**_Anything, John._ **

John encircled Sherlock’s cock with two hands, feeling the ridges and concentric plates that covered the shaft. She stroked, and Sherlock breathed pure fire, scorching the ceiling of the cave ahead of them, sending cascades of ash to the floor. One drop of pearly fluid appeared at the tip of Sherlock’s cock. John licked from base to head and then tasted. Emboldened, she began to lick stripes up Sherlock’s shaft, tasting a new drop with every pass, all the while, caressing the base.

**_John! Your scent, my scent..._ **

“They’re mingling?”

**_Yes! I need...I need..._ **

“Think I don’t know what you need, Sherlock? Think I don’t know what my gorgeous mate needs?” John crawled up Sherlock’s body, peppering her neck with kisses. “I know what my beautiful fire-drake needs,” she cooed, adding with a chuckle, “Though I have to say, never in my life did I think that ‘Three Continents’ would include Middle Earth!”

Sherlock rolled sharply, sending John tumbling to the cave floor. In a fearsome display, she stood on her back legs in front of John, wings unfurled and flapping, front legs clawing at air, long neck winding like the reptilian form she swore that she was not, eyes flickering, tail thrashing behind her, jaws gnashing, and nostrils sending balls of fire to the ceiling. Her cock, still heavy and hard, leaked and bounced with her movements.

John smiled through the ash that rained down on them. “Jealous?” she teased. More ash.

**_Mine! MINE!_ **

John stood by the fire and pulled her pyjama top over her head.

“Come and make me yours,” she beckoned as she turned her back to Sherlock.

Sherlock’s tongue roughly lapped at John’s back. The tip traced her hair line, behind her ears,and across her brow. Then it coiled under one arm, over her breasts, burrowing under the opposite arm. The tongue moved up and down. John moaned.

“I like that.”

**_Think I don’t know what you like?_ **

Sherlock lay by the fire on her side. John pushed her pyjama bottoms and pants down and kicked them away. Sherlock’s tongue immediately slipped between John’s legs, rubbing.

**_Think I don’t know you crave...?_ **

“Friction,” whimpered John.

Keeping her feet on the ground, John edged backwards, straddling Sherlock’s tongue, which grew wider and wider as John moved closer and closer to Sherlock’s mouth. John felt Sherlock’s hot, damp breath on her arse. She wiggled; she rocked. She experimented until she found the perfect rhythm.

**_That’s right. Fuck yourself on this tongue, John. It was made for your pleasure. Lift up, John. Yes, like that. I want to see your cunt. So wet, so delicious. Open for me, show me. Yes, yes. My mate, my mate, fucking herself on her dragon’s tongue. Perfect._ **

The first burst of sweetness hit John hard, knocking her off-balance. Sherlock lowered her gently to the ground. Her tongue retracted, causing John to whimper.

John rose on all fours. She slurred, “Sherlock, if I were a proper dragon mate...”

**_YOU ARE A PROPER DRAGON MATE!_ **

When the showers of ash and dirt subsided, John took a deep breath and said, more soberly, this time, “If I were a _dragon_...” She crawled toward Sherlock’s dripping cock. She swallowed a mouthful of thick liquid and spread her knees wide, arching her back high. “...would I present like _this_ , for mounting, for mating?” John looked over her shoulder. Sherlock’s neck was twisted sharply. Her eyes glinted silver and her entire body was a dark purple, from the tip of her horns to the tip of tongue that reached for John.

 ** _You would, John, you would present just like that._** The tip of Sherlock’s tongue reached John, tasting, teasing between her legs. **_For mounting, for mating._** John gulped more of the leaking milky fluid. Then she threw her head back and groaned loudly as Sherlock’s tongue entered her. John swirled her own tongue around the head of Sherlock’s cock, kissing along the first crested-ridge.

“More, Sherlock,” pleaded John, arching her back, abandoning Sherlock’s cock to sink her forearms and head to the ground. “Make me your proper mate.”

Sherlock pushed her tongue deep inside John, filling her. John cried out.

“Sherlock!”

**_So good, John, so good._ **

John reached back with one arm and said weakly, “Stay. Stay inside me.”

**_Dragon mating can last for hours, John._ **

“ _Christ, yes!_ ”

* * *

John’s last climax was a soft flutter. She had licked and stroked Sherlock’s cock, slurping from her slit as wave after wave crested inside her. Finally, she crumpled to the ground. Sherlock eased her tongue out and licked John’s sweat-soaked body.

“You’ve shown...uh... _supernatural_...stamina, Sherlock.” John nodded to Sherlock’s still-erect cock.

**_So have you._ **

John laughed. Then she turned and looked into Sherlock’s eyes. “You can let go now, Sherlock. Let me...help you.”

John rubbed Sherlock’s entire belly. She massaged the base of Sherlock’s cock and drew one hand up and down the shaft, twisting gently over the head. Finally, she wrapped both hands around Sherlock and pumped.

**_John, John...JOHN!_ **

A hard swat from Sherlock’s tail threw John flat to the ground as hot, wet splashes hit her from back of her head to the back of her knees. Sherlock roared. John closed her eyes and put her arm over her face. A shadow fell across her, but no dirt, no ash. She looked up and realized that a wide-spread wing was shielding her from falling debris. John turned her head and smiled at Sherlock, who returned the smile.

**_I should have thought of this earlier. Quite useful, wings._ **

John snuggled next to Sherlock’s belly and closed her eyes, listening to Sherlock’s breathing. After a few minutes, Sherlock broke the silence.

**_As much as I’d like to keep you in your current state, it will become...uncomfortable._ **

“Yeah, I think we’re already there, mate,” said John as she touched her matted hair and grimaced. Sherlock closed her eyes and then opened them.

**_Fashion a torch from that piece of wood, and come._ **

John did as requested. Torch in hand, John climbed aboard when Sherlock bent low.

**_I know this cave quite well. Mycroft tried to lose me here on more than one occasion when we were children._ **

Sherlock lumbered toward the back of the cave. When they turned a corner, John exclaimed,

“Oh, _Sherlock_. It’s a...lagoon.” Sherlock breathed fire onto the water and steam rose.

**_A heated lagoon._ **

John slid off of Sherlock’s back, stuck the torch in the cave floor, and walked to the water’s edge. It was still and the colour of Sherlock’s indigo scales.

**_It’s safe. The slope is quite gentle. I bathed here once myself._ **

John shook her head. “In the span of a night, you’ve built me a nest and drawn me a bath. No one, including you, Sherlock, will ever convince me that the size of your heart doesn’t match the size of your brain—or your lizard body.” John caught a glimpse of a lavender-coloured underbelly as Sherlock turned.

**_Fire-drake, not lizard, John. In my Mind Cave._ **

When John emerged from the water, Sherlock scooped up her dripping body with her tail and deposited her on her back.

**_Good. Your scent remains despite the washing. Very good._ **

Sherlock returned to the fire. John curled on her side between Sherlock’s wings.

“I love you, Sherlock” was the last thing John murmured before sleep overtook her.

* * *

John was cold. Very cold. She pried her eyes open. Morning light issued from the entrance to the cave.

She was alone.

No fire. No fire-breathing dragon. No gold coins encircling the mound of ash.

She scrambled into her pyjamas and pants, which had been laid atop her naked body.

“Sherlock!”

Her cry echoed.

“By the water!”

Sherlock’s voice was rough, but unmistakably human. John ran towards the lagoon.

Sherlock stood facing the water, wrapped in the Belstaff. Her raven hair was dishevelled, and her feet were bare.

“Was it a dream?” asked John, approaching her slowly.

Sherlock shook her head. She held out her mobile. “Fifteen messages, of an increasingly frantic nature, all about the _gas leak_.” She dropped the device back in her pocket. “I would have left you the coat, but...” She turned and opened the sides of the Belstaff to reveal her pale form clad only in sparkly indigo bra and knickers.

“Still gorgeous,” said John, smiling. “What happened to the gold?”

Sherlock turned back to the water. “It disappeared. Along with the scales and the horns and the tail.” There was no mistaking the melancholy in Sherlock’s tone. John slotted her arms around Sherlock’s waist and rested her cheek between her shoulder blades.

“And the cock,” teased John, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s back.

“Yes,” said Sherlock, smiling over her shoulder. “I won’t miss that, but the tongue...”

“Holy Mary!” whispered John, hiding her blush in the dark fabric of Sherlock’s coat. “Maybe you can find a facsimile online...”

“Perhaps.”

“So I guess it was the gold and not the knickers that were...magical.”

“As much as it pains me to admit, John, _I don’t know_. Despite all the knowledge of dragons I’ve acquired in the last few hours, the origins of the transformation are still a mystery.” Sherlock sighed.

John closed her eyes and tightened her grip. “Sherlock, you are beautiful and unique and a force to be reckoned with—no matter what form you take.” John paused and then added, “And regardless of how or why it happened, now I can call you ‘my Dragon’ without irony.” She grinned.

“Don’t see why not. I have ever called you ‘my Mate’ without it,” replied Sherlock softly.

The two remained locked in a silent embrace until John asked,

“Now what?”

“We make our way to the house for clothes—“

“And tea?!”

“And tea,” said Sherlock. “And some assistance in returning to London.”

“Well, let’s go, before I lose my hairy Hobbit feet to frostbite.”

John headed toward the mouth of the cave. When she was out of sight, Sherlock looked back at the water. She could not see the twelve coins at the bottom of the lagoon, but she knew that they were there.

“You’ll be safer here. I’ll come back for you. When the time is right. Mine. Ever mine. Just like John.”

“Sherlock! Come on! _Tea!_ ”

“Coming!”

Sherlock stepped into the full morning light, catching John as she launched herself into her arms. John planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her lips and cried, “Happy Birthday!”

Sherlock laughed.

“It has been a _most_ memorable birthday.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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